


Feline Adventures

by JaegerMeister



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kittens, M/M, much cute, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5248958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaegerMeister/pseuds/JaegerMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock arrives home after a case with an unexpected companion. John decides to allow Sherlock to keep his new pal, and the two of them must go on a cat-care quest to keep their feline friend (and Sherlock) happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unexpected Companion

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I haven't written any fanfiction in AGES so I figured I'd give it another go, and where better to start than Britain's best ship? I hope you enjoy it and give kudos, that'd be fantastic. Happy reading!

The apartment had been empty save John for two days now, with Sherlock out on a case, due to be back god knows when. So, John had kept himself somewhat entertained, editing his blog, making tea for two accidentally, yelling at more self-service machines, making more tea - you'd think Sherlock had been away for weeks, but this is what happens when you spend so much time with someone you love so dearly, withdrawal, one might say. John's tea cup was being filled for the third time this afternoon when he heard the familiar but dearly missed click of the door, ruffle of blue scarf and patter of footsteps against the stairs. Putting down his cup, John crossed the room, swung open the door hopefully, and was met by his wonderful boyf-

A kitten.

He was met by a kitten.

Soft black paws patted at his ankles playfully as he looked on, dazed, slightly puzzled as to whether or not he'd consumed too much caffeine. Sherlock looked on at the top of the stairs, a small, childish smile on his face, as if to ask John "canwekeephimcanwekeephim?" 

"I suppose you find this funny, do you find this funny?" John asked Sherlock, going red due to his overall bafflement, "You've brought home a kitten, Sherlock, a bloody kitten! You're like a child for god's sa- BLOODY HELL!" He cried as the small fuzzball scratched at his bare foot. 

Sherlock, slightly startled yet amused at John's behaviour, scooped up the kitten with one hand and looked at him with complete seriousness. "We need to set some ground rules. Rule number one, don't scratch John. Rule number two, don't scratch Sherlock. Rule number three... maybe I should put together a rule book.."

Throughout this discussion, Sherlock was oblivious to the persistent "Sherlock" 's coming from the mouth of his boyfriend. Eventually looking up, he raised an eyebrow at said boyfriend.

"Cats can't read, Sherlock. Has it occurred to you that if we were to look after this cat, we’re the ones that will need to read a book?”

But by this point Sherlock wasn’t paying attention to the last part of his statement, only the fact that John had implied that the cat could become theirs. So, he gently placed the kitten down and strode over to John, kissing him lightly on his pursed-through-disappointment lips. Yet when he opened his eyes, John had turned a subtle shade of pink, and was now looking down at the fuzz that was playing with his tail.

“So you mean to say that we can keep him?” Sherlock asked, but not stopping for a reply, he continued, “I mean I know that you’re going to say yes at some point but that’s only providing that I act nice and kind and th-“

“We can keep him, I suppose.”

Now John truly was left speechless when Sherlock, without even giving him time to properly close his eyes, kissed John, properly, for quite a lot longer. Of course, Sherlock knew precisely when he needed to stop to allow John to breathe, and precisely when John’s lungs had recovered enough for him to go back again. But, this time, John stopped Sherlock, who cocked his head at this.

“We have… company, I guess.” John reminded Sherlock, gesturing with his head towards the feline still playing with his tail, in awe of it.

“I don’t know if I want a kitten anymore, John.”

“Oh, shut up, yes you do.”


	2. Title Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the time has come for the dreaded naming of the kitten. Carnage ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've already got kudos since this morning omg I love you all (not as much as my turtle but still a lot). Happy reading!

24 hours had passed, and John was now, with his hands massaging his temples, debating which was more annoying: the kitten’s persistent wails, or Sherlock’s.

“Johnnnnnnnnnn!” Sherlock called from the sofa he was led on with their feline friend on his chest. Sighing, John stood up as slowly as possible and dragged his feet over to the sort-of-living-room, putting his hands on his hips.

“Yes, Sherlock?” he asked, with a tone that reminded Sherlock of his mother quite a lot.

Holding up the kitten high above his head, both him and Sherlock looking at John like they were constantly in synch with each other, Sherlock responded, “We need to name him.”

Here we go.

*__*

“Sherlock, for the last time, we are not calling him Puma Thurman!”

“Okay, okay, considering that’s rather feminine… Pablo Picatso?”

“Sherlock, I swear to god-” John stopped himself and took a deep breath. Three hours. They’d been arguing about this for three. Hours. And it seemed all Sherlock was interested in was cat puns. Underneath the buzzing of frustration in his mind, John could hear Sherlock’s incessant grumbling, consisting of “could’vecalledhimPurrlockHolmesbutIdidn’tsowhat’sthebigdeal” and “bloodyJohn” and “nocatspunswhatajoke.”

Jumping up, John, picked up the unnamed but so far doomed kitten and looked him in the eyes. “What do we name you, eh?”

“It’s like he’s judging you, isn’t it?” Sherlock spoke from the sofa, a smile tugging at his lips. “You look at him and all you can think about is what he’s thinking of you, and why. Do you not?”

“No, you’re… you’re completely right…”

“Shai.”

“What?”

“We should call him Shai. Egyptian god. He’d look at the dead and judge their fate depending on their good deeds and bad deeds. For some reason, I feel as though this little man would love to have that power.”

John cocked his head at the kitten, who probably hadn’t blinked since John picked him up. He was just staring, unfazed, at John. “Shai. I like it.”

The newly named Shai had grown tired of staring and being held above the ground at a height of approximately 12 Shai’s, and nipped John on the arm, who immediately let go, cursing.

“Bloody cat… should’ve named him Mycroft… bloody nuisance.”


End file.
